


The Wilderness

by PerfidiouslySnatching



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Biting, Class Differences, Explicit but not graphic, First Meetings, Forests, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Wolfsbane Era, Self-Doubt, Some Plot, Tattooed Sirius Black, Werewolves, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25683151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerfidiouslySnatching/pseuds/PerfidiouslySnatching
Summary: “Rennervate.”Why had Remus been the victim of so many injuries? Were there competing werewolves in these woods? Why had he been so close to Sirius’s cottage? Had Remus been trying to attack him?“Rennervate.”Somehow, Sirius was not afraid.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icbdrummergirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icbdrummergirl/gifts).



> Made as a gift, but it was a gift to make! This is intended to take place in a far-off time period, before Wolfsbane Potions and before the advent of a more formalised Wizarding society. I hope you all enjoy.
> 
> Oh, and if you know me, I always have a song rec: ["Wolf" by Now, Now.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nHHtkeM8o-A)
> 
> Final content warning: Contains explicitly sexual content.

Sirius Black was too hot-tempered a wizard to continue to live so closely to Mugglekind. At one point in his youth, he had thought living within civilisation was the answer to escaping his family’s crumbling castle. The House of Black was an old Wizarding family that pressed its distaste against Muggles as an issue of public safety, a political approach which was well-received by many in the Wizarding community. It had seemed there would be no better way to mock his unloving family than to live amongst the Muggles, but Sirius had since developed his own distaste for them, albeit a nonviolent one. The Muggles in his quiet village had begun to suspect him of both sorcery and sodomy, and it seemed to them there was no worse combination of behaviours on God’s green Earth. Sirius knew it was time to leave, but with Black Castle equally unwelcome to him, he knew he must return to the old ways and make his living from scratch.

Into one of the great English forests Sirius escaped, and with magic and hard work alike, he built himself a fine cottage in the midst of the wood. Being raised as nobility, he did not possess a very good green thumb, and his sowed land often went inadequately tended. Sirius was a skilled hunter to make up for it, and filled his belly with game and bone stews each night. On occasion, he would find the work of predators who had come before him, but he felt utterly alone as the sole apex, the sole human, in the wilderness.

One early morning, Sirius fell into a brood which he decided was a combination of solitariness and a growing distaste for the flavour of quail. His poor attempt at home agriculture would not last him through the winter even if he were to start now. He had seeds aplenty in his cupboard, some which could be planted late, but he utterly did not want to put forth the effort. He sought his answers and his meat deeper in the forest. If he could hunt enough, he could salt-cure and magically preserve it all. Just so long as it wasn’t all bloody quail. He constructed a tree stand in the hopes that he could get some substantial creature, whether mundane or magical. He was not above baiting, although after an hour of partaking in the very strenuous work of _sitting_ , Sirius excited at every sound. The creature he had attracted with his bait set-up was not the kind of edible he had been anticipating: a human male.

He was average in height and build, but not average in countenance. He had short, fair brown hair, curious green eyes, and a strong nose and jaw. He was marred terribly with scars, but in Sirius’s eyes they seemed to be in all the right places. His manner of dress was clean but indicative of pauperism, and Sirius could not ascertain whether it was a wizard or Muggle curiously studying the bait.

“Hello?” called the man from the ground, and when Sirius stood properly to reveal himself.

Upon seeing Sirius’s status, the visitor shied slightly, touched his drab clothes subconsciously, and said, “Hello, _sir_.”

“Good morning. Are you lost, my good man?” Sirius asked.

“I am not. I was admiring your structure here, sir. Are you from the village yonder east, sir?”

The man had such a soft voice for someone covered in so many wounds. He seemed in conflict between showing his face in candid and polite manner and hiding it toward the ground in shame.

“I was from many villages,” Sirius said in good humour. “I find myself residing in this wood presently.”

Though it could not have been more obvious that the man below meant no ill will, he seemed displeased to learn that Sirius lived here.

“Sir, forgive me for being so inquisitive, but it is extremely early. Have you been here all night? Do you hunt at night?”

Sirius was not offended at the man’s curiosity but rather delighted by the air of mystery in his questions.

“Why, no, I do not. I presumed there would be more in these woods to hunt _me_ at night. Why do you ask, my friend?”

“I ask because you are correct. This forest is monstrous at night. That is why, pardon me, sir, I looked so distraught upon learning you lived here.”

“I see, I see!” Sirius said with adventure brimming in his voice. “And pray tell, friend, has this forest inflicted those wounds upon you?”

His visitor’s eyes widened, and the brief show of emotion highlighted everything Sirius had already decided was attractive about the face. For he knew beneath the light facial hair were even more scars peeking through. Why hide it? Had he been ostracised as well for sporting such injuries?

“Kind sir, the scars and wounds upon my face are indeed how I know about these wilds, ah, first-hand. I ask that you use my awful appearance as an example, and I bid you God bless and safe keeping.”

The pauper did a crooked sort of bow and took his leave, which was not what Sirius wanted. He had been the only human being he had seen since escaping the Muggles.

“Pardon –– pardon!” Sirius called, and he tried to get out of his tree stand without using magic to little avail.

“Sir?”

“Do not leave me just yet, man. I would like to hear more about the dangers of the forest,” Sirius said, more thirstily than fearfully.

The man started walking back towards the bait pile, and Sirius eventually was able to get himself back on the ground without revealing himself as a wizard. To his shock, his visitor had been standing quite closely to his point of landing. He smelled of a peculiar perfume of tree resin as though he had just bathed vigorously, and at this proximity Sirius discovered how fresh some of the man’s wounds were. Beautiful, unmistakable magic was emanating from him, crawling up Sirius’s sleeves.

“My friend, you are like me!” Sirius boomed in delight, and he nearly terrified his new companion.

“O-Oh –– I –– yes, sir, I am a practitioner,” he said, quickly displaying his wand in his sleeve.

“How superb! You see, I never thought I would find anyone out here, let alone a wizard.”

The visitor did not look half as keen to begin a friendship, or even acquaintanceship, with Sirius, and it was beginning to sit wrong. Sirius had had trouble in Wizarding society on account of his family slandering endlessly against him. Could it be that he were never to find a friend again from either world?

“What is your name, then?” Sirius challenged the timid wizard.

“Remus, sir. My name is Remus.”

“Ah, Remus! And where is Romulus?” Sirius joked.

Remus looked at him wide-eyed again, and Sirius became disgruntled that their manners were not attuning as much as he would have liked. He took a step back, then two. Perhaps Remus had a strong sense of personal space after living in the woods so many years.

“My name is Sirius,” he announced, though he felt he was talking to himself at this point.

Remus’s wide eyes lidded a bit, and he once again placed his hands along his clothes as if willing them to become nicer.

“Sirius,” he said pensively, “the brightest star of all.”

If this was Remus’s idea of responding to the Romulus joke, it was not working.

“You are of the noble House of Black, are you not, sir? What purpose would such a terrible environment serve for a man of your status?”

Sirius laughed ironically, “The House of Black will not count me as one of their own.”

Remus had a polite attentiveness about him, though he continued to inhibit what might have been his natural flow of speech for fear of striking offense in someone of higher status. Sirius disliked this and felt the need to emphasise the humility he did not quite have…

“I consider them cruel bigots, tainted by selfishness and blinded by status. Muggles, though, were incompatible with me as well. That is why I have sought refuge in this forest, Remus, to be alone. If you are a denizen of this forest, surely you understand that isolation is almost as dull as poor company.”

“I see. You are your own man, then,” Remus said with a refined smile. “Perhaps we will cross paths from time to time. Good day to you.”

Sirius was on the brink of asking Remus where he resided, but Remus Disapparated. If Sirius didn’t know any better, he would have said Remus had left in fear.


	2. Chapter 2

Winter threatened the woods, and although Sirius could have effortlessly plundered supplies from Muggles, he did have _some_ morals and resorted to an act quite below his status indeed: gathering. He stockpiled what the land offered him, knowing that he was at least blessed with magic to cushion him in emergencies. Winters did not kill Wizards as they killed Muggles. He had not seen Remus since their first encounter, and it plagued him in unprecedented ways. If the dangers Remus spoke about in the forest were real, did he not have adequate protection against them? What magical beasts could have taken his life by merely breaking down the poor man’s house? In contrast, if Remus was alive, he surely must have been avoiding Sirius. With as far as Sirius trekked in search of both food and adventure, he should have come across him by now out of sheer probability.

Perhaps not. Probability struck in the midst of December, when the full moonrise was quickly blanketed in a snowstorm overnight. The wind was not the only thing that howled that night, and though Sirius was normally a fearless man, he was thankful for the fortitude of his cottage. Not half of the night had passed when the snow reached the height of his windows and covered them. Sirius only dozed occasionally, for he felt that if he fell asleep he would wake up to find his home buried. He kept a Shield Spell upon his home so that the snowfall would divert, and at the break of morning, he discovered that beyond the domed Shield, walls of snow surrounded him. There would be no need to go out in weather like this, at least for the time being. He would have to Apparate this winter eventually, though, for he only had enough provisions to last until January.

Sirius did not want to wait for the towering snow to melt round his house, for it obstructed the view of his surroundings. Any water that this snow produced was sure to freeze once more, and the last thing Sirius desired was an iced pond round his house. He began to trowel through the mass at the eye level, which was easiest, and he watched the snow above cascade down the concave slopes he created. Every so often, he would uncover a snapped branch of a tree, but he never anticipated a body rolling down towards him.

“Good God!”

It was Remus, and he was barely alive. Sirius’s mind could not make anything of his condition. His clothes were all but torn off, and hung on him in streamers that left his many wounds vivid exposed in the surrounding red ice. His light brown hair was stuck in cold sweat to his face, and he had scabbed lips. Sirius rapidly checked him for head and neck injuries, which were miraculously absent. He then wasted no time in Levitating Remus into the cottage.

Remus’s breathing was shallow and strained as Sirius lay him upon the divan and flooded him with rescuing magic –– heat charms, blood-staunchers, wound-sealers, and still more heat. A solid “ _Rennervate_ ” did nothing, and Sirius watched helplessly as he prayed the warmth in the spells would save this man from hypothermia. He drew up a chair and watched his companion fight for life as he lay in a stain of blood. What in the world had happened to him? If Sirius did not know any better, he would say that Remus had been attacked by a…

 _No_.

Sirius jumped up and ran to his medicine chest, for he must find dittany and wolfsbane –– items he already knew he did not presently have. Yet if he did not look, he would not find, and he willed the items there with every stomping step and with every grasp of the bottles in the chest. All he managed to return with was a Blood Replenishing Potion and a Numbing Solution. Sirius tore the remaining fabric of Remus’s shirt to access the injuries he had just healed to scabs, washed his hands, and rubbed the Numbing Solution where he knew the pain would be when Remus came to.

“ _Rennervate_.”

Remus stirred but did not awaken. His breathing got heavier. The initial shock wore off for Sirius, and he began to ponder his visitor. Remus had already been covered in scars from injuries just like these when they had first met. Last night had been the full moon. Feeling like a daring detective, Sirius drew closer to the slowly warming body to study its marks. Once again, he concluded that many things about Remus, besides his handsomely scarred countenance, were average. Average height, average weight, average balance between deliciously hard muscle in the arm and sweet, soft fat at the lower part of the stomach where the hair trailed.

The mental equivalent to an “ _ahem_ ” rang in Sirius’s head, and thus he raised his gaze again. He saw his own magic working on the gouges, scratches, and claw marks that had carved into the rough skin. Once he stopped being so utterly distracted by the softening of Remus’s once-cold nipples, Sirius discovered what he sought. At the crook between Remus’s neck and shoulder, mostly toward the back, was the worst scar of all: a misshapen circle of scarred puncture wounds, possibly _decades_ old. The teeth had been many, and the bite had been deep, as if the goal of the attacker had been to consume rather than create. It now dotted Remus’s skin like a wreath of stars. He was already a werewolf. He had been a werewolf long before Sirius had met him.

“ _Rennervate_.”

Why had Remus been the victim of so many injuries? Were there competing werewolves in these woods? Why had he been so close to Sirius’s cottage? Had Remus been trying to attack him?

“ _Rennervate_.”

Somehow, Sirius was not afraid. After all, there was an entire month before Remus would transform again. Sirius wanted Remus to come alive, to be healthy, to laugh it off as if they were old friends.

“ _Rennervate_.”

Lycanthropy had to have been what drove Remus to live alone in a place like this. It was an unearthly, hellish condition, but then again, so was being the son of Walburga Black.

“ _Rennervate_.”

Remus hissed and reacted without thinking, clutching the wrist of the wand-holder. His green eyes were like spring in the winter. His mouth fell agape, and last night’s canines were still highly visible, though they now chafed the inside of the pleasing lips. His breathing became rapid with shame, discomfort, and imagined urgency that Sirius did not feel in the slightest. He seemed too lost to speak.

“Welcome, Remus,” Sirius said, and it came out gently without even trying. “I have discovered the meaning behind your warning. The danger in this forest is you.”


	3. Chapter 3

Remus loosened his grip on the wrist of the man who had taken him in. His injuries had been tended, but not enough for him to do what he wanted to do, that is, to run. Sirius Black was a nobleman, and yet he hung his head low and close over the body that contained so much self-hatred.

_I am impoverished._

_I am a half-blood._

_I am a werewolf._

Remus scowled from pain and disgust, and as he sat up, he averted his eyes. How animalistic a notion, “ _If I cannot see him, then he cannot see me_.”

Remus could have walked back out into the snow to die if only his legs were not so gnarled. He had, in a deplorable attempt to have but one more conversation with the foolish noble, but one more chance at humanity, located the man’s residence only to turn tail. Remus’s memory of the place, though, had remained, and during his transformation, his body willed him to the location not in search of company but in search of meat. The wounds he bore were the desperate remnants of his human subconscious trying to stop him. He would rather tear his own flesh than eat the flesh of humans, but he had injured himself so severely that his would-be victim had identified his lycanthropy. One of them had to leave this forest for good. Remus had nowhere else to go.

“You must leave this forest,” Remus assigned.

Sirius narrowed his heavy-lidded, silver eyes. As he craned his neck back in distant judgment, his wavy black hair just missed the arch of his broad shoulders.

“Are there others of you? A pack?”

There were no others in this area, for Remus loathed werewolves, and he loathed his condition, and he loathed that the packs all bowed to the alpha Fenrir who had bitten this disease into him. Thus, there was no company for Remus, whether human or lycanthrope. Yet he must lie and say there were many, for Sirius was bewilderingly unafraid of one.

“You lie, Remus. You are alone out here. You are a dread liar,” Sirius said with a smile.

 _You cannot smile at me knowing what I am_.

“Very well, sir, but you must still leave. I would sooner die than attack you in the night. You are lucky I have not yet done so. I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality and kindness. I will leave, but so must you. I only ask that you do not reveal my location. God willing, I am trying to live an isolated life to do others no harm.”

Sirius laughed with an almost drunken mirth, and this laughter made Remus question all first impressions of the man that he had been carrying for months. Could Sirius possibly be another of his kind…? No, no. He was far too put together for so soon an hour after moonset. Did Sirius laugh because he meant to harm Remus, to turn the tables on who would be the victim? For all of his shame, Remus was not about to be a victim of violence. No silver blade would kill this skin. He forced himself to stand, and he made for the door even without clothes or a wand. His mind was still not working properly. There was no longer fur to warm him.

“My good man, what do you intend by going out there?” Sirius chuckled even more, and it felt so _sarcastic_ …

Outside, there was an enormous wall of snow, with one area that still carried the dye of Remus’s blood. Wandless, naked, and injured, Remus could not leave, but he knew now that Sirius meant him no harm. Why had he panicked? Sirius was the one who had tended to him. Remus was far too sensitive to threats at this hour. Sirius appeared behind him and invited him back inside, after which he closed the door and all but blocked it.

“You must think I am mad,” Remus bemoaned.

“I do, and I can only hope that you are as mad as me,” replied Sirius. “Come, and I will prepare you a meal.”

 _How do you know_?

Remus always gorged himself during the days before full moonrise in the hopes that he could prevent some of the famishment he felt as the creature. There were times it worked better than others, and this was not one of those times, for his monstrous self had known the place where human meat resided. It had, preternaturally, all but starved him, and he was now incredibly hungry. Sirius did not wait for Remus to acknowledge or accept the offer. He began preparing meat he had cured along with some pitiful root vegetables he had pickled for the winter. Why would a wizard, no less a wizard of his standing, have so little food?

“Sir, I cannot impinge upon your hospitality any longer. When I am able, I swear to you I will leave. You, however, _must_ leave as well. Leave before the next full moon. I cannot guarantee that I will be able to stop myself again. I know now where you live, and I will be back.”

“I do hope you come back,” said Sirius absurdly, grinding pepper into the cauldron. “I am sorry to hear that those wounds were self-inflicted, Remus. You insinuated that you did that to save me? What a golden heart you have! You continue to tell me to leave my own home, though. Would it not be better if I were to use magic to contain you during your next transformation? Then all of your anxiety could be spared as well as my life. I do like it here.”

Remus was aghast at the offer, “Sir, it would be far too lowly a task for you to help me. I must remain alone.”

“You are far too amazed at my birth, Remus. My name is not Sir, it is Sirius. There is no task too lowly if it is helping others,” Sirius said pointedly.

He held a bowl of the delicious meal in front of Remus, who was still standing.

“T-This –– this is far more than I could ever ask for. You have saved my life, and ––”

“Eat, Remus.”

“I cannot bear to have you live so closely to the danger I pose. I am wholly uncontrollable, sir. You must leave within the month.”

Sirius held the bowl closer, as if tempting Remus with the smell would put food in his mouth and stop him from talking. He set it on the table.

“Where do you suggest I go, my friend?” he asked, almost tauntingly.

“You are of the family Black.”

“I lived amongst Muggles. I told you that they do not believe I am kin to them any longer.”

“Then the Muggles would––”

Sirius interrupted Remus in the most unplumbed way possible. Placing upon Remus’s cheek the soft-skinned hand of nobility, Sirius rubbed his thumb against the scabbed bite wounds on his lips. In the same motion, he drew Remus’s upper lip back to reveal the sharp teeth, and his other fingers caressed behind his ear.

“Remus, there is a reason that I can no longer live amongst Muggles.”


	4. Chapter 4

Remus discovered that Sirius was a man who had come to the woods foolishly unprepared for the winter. Considering that Sirius was a man of morals and would not use magic to steal food from others, he had run out of victuals by January. Then, and only then, did Remus accept the fact that their companionship could be mutually beneficial. After all, Remus was a magnificent agriculturalist and had enough food to feed a family he would never have. And Sirius –– brave, stupid Sirius –– was able to hold a wand on the night of the full moon.

Remus’s neck was throbbing from his pulse as he hauled food through the snowy path. For as bountiful as his home farm was, he lived in a shack and would absolutely not let Sirius see it. They spent their days, and their strange, gratifying nights, at Sirius’s cottage.

Sirius must have been watching by the window, for he opened the door without Remus knocking.

“I have brought beetroot, carrot, cabbage, legume––”

“Place the food over there, Remus.”

“Pardon, but let me at least show you what I have for this week…”

“Remus.”

Remus looked back up. Sirius was standing still and tense, with that glint in his silvery eyes. Oh, silver was supposed to be Remus’s downfall according to myth. He felt the ghosts of Sirius’s previous touches resurrect upon his skin by sheer imagination. Remus had never lain with anyone before Sirius, and that was exactly the way he wanted it, for he had been properly starved for Sirius’s nourishment. The sexual novelty had collided with the social isolation in the most desperate, shivery way during their first few times. The shivers were gone, and the desperation remained.

“I’m in need,” admitted Sirius with hell’s honey in his voice.

 _Not as much as I am_.

Remus unbuttoned the cloak he wore, which was Sirius’s anyway. They had become inseparable providers to one another in this woodland maze. As Remus advanced, Sirius retreated with a reverse walk. The smug smile and the backwards saunter were humorously unnecessary, but they were so true to the man’s character that Remus consumed it all. Once past the threshold of the bedroom, Remus stopped the playful slink and seized the taller man by the arms to lap kisses out of his mouth. Sirius’s hands had at first landed upon Remus’s waist, but they travelled everywhere and untied his shirt, baring the claw-torn scars that were all shame to Remus and all sex to him.

Remus gripped Sirius’s head and tugged on his long, black hair to raise his jaw and make his neck more vulnerable. He kissed under the fine jaw, going gently on the Adam’s apple, but he licked and bit the crook until he felt Sirius try to buck into him whilst standing. Remus tore off all his clothes and beheld Sirius’s tattoos. They were symbols and runes of alchemy. Not having grown up with tutors at his disposal, Remus knew nothing of the subject, and he would plant kisses along Sirius’s collarbone and chest as he asked, “What is this one?”

“For gold,” Sirius said.

“Ah, and what is this one?”

“For _––_ for silver.”

“And this one, Sirius?”

“ _Ah. Ah. Ah._ ”

Remus ground into the man’s hips to demonstrate to him how firm he was already.

“I did not catch that one, Sirius.”

“I cannot recall which one you touched…”

“You could invent a lie about your tattoos, and I would not be the wiser. Did you know that?” Remus chuckled.

“I would not lie to you. Remus, please,” Sirius begged.

“Please?” Remus teased, smashing Sirius as hard as he could against the wall. “What is it you ask of me?”

Sirius was slightly taller, and his hardness was pressing into Remus’s lower stomach. He was so deliciously warm.

“Make me yours again.”

“I’ll oblige, I suppose,” he sighed happily, and they wrestled each other to the bed, destroying the blankets.

The sweat began to bead on Sirius’s forehead. Remus tightly grabbed the man’s hands and brought them to his chest to make them pray whilst he got him ready.

Then Sirius fell to the mattress on his elbows, and rubbed his temples with both hands as if reading some old, arcane tome in luxurious libraries.

“ _Ahh_ ,” he gasped as Remus entered him,

“ _Ahh_ ,” like a grand idea had come to him in his studies.

Remus traced a finger up and down the crease of Sirius’s back and found all the ridges of his spine. He watched every ripple of movement he created in Sirius’s body until he was satisfied to know the effect of his thrusts. He then leaned further in to kiss the tattooed canvas, to curl an arm round and grab the cock that he had made his.

Remus did not know when, but kisses turned to bites, and rhythm turned to power. Sirius began to accompany the deep percussion with his otherworldly vocals. Remus licked the salt right from his back before pushing him further into the soft pillow.

“You’re getting more feral as the month draws on, dear Remus,” Sirius laughed in his throat.

Remus licked his canines. He knew it. He didn’t exactly want to hear it, but he knew it.

“You’ve been so sweet. I do enjoy this, too, though,” Sirius said.

“Oh? Tell me more.”

“I… I…”

“Tell me _more_ , Sirius,” Remus growled.

“ _Remus_!” Sirius called out for all of creation to hear.

With the greatest song of all, Sirius swelled hot in Remus’s hand, soiling it and everything else. Remus took his hand back to either side of the man’s hips and moved to get what he had come for.

“Oh… you are almost there, too, my love, aren’t you?” Sirius whispered evilly right before he took it all.

Remus fell onto the bed, which seemed cool in areas and so unbearably warm in others. Sirius stepped outside to get some water, and when he returned, Remus was already longing for his company again. He rested his head upon Sirius’s decorated chest and traced more tattoos with his fingers. Sirius traced his scars in turn. They were perfectly imperfect.


	5. Chapter 5

The morn before January’s full moon was upon them, and Remus could not control his thoughts. What if Sirius’s magic, and the room, did not hold him? What if Sirius fell asleep? How could he allow Sirius to do this at his personal expense? How did he deserve Sirius?

What if he _harmed_ Sirius?

Remus turned to admire the sleeping man beside him and decided that it would be best if it were the last time. Sirius breathed lightly and slept deeply, and the sweep of the blanket exposed the marks on his shoulders. If only Remus could guarantee that he would only ever mark Sirius’s tender skin with love and not injury. He whispered his love and his thanks, that the sound might reach Sirius’s dreams, and he stole away.

There was no harder action than to shut the door to Sirius’s cottage and run. He must have looked back a dozen times. When he reached his shack, he threw everything he could into a sack with an Extension charm and ran even more. He would go beyond the forest and into the mountains, where he would surely become a legend to townsfolk on the leeward side. He charmed his footprints away as he continued through the woods.

It was approximately six of the clock when Remus realised that he was being pursued, and it was approximately twenty minutes later when he realised that his pursuer was not human. It must have been one of Fenrir’s pack, come to take him… No, what if it was Fenrir himself? Remus ran faster. The thing behind him had let its humanity go, as Remus heard its quadrupedal dash catch up to him far too quickly. It snorted and sniffed and smelt the fear in his blood. Remus found himself faster and stronger than he had been earlier that day, and he jumped over logs, crashed through branches, and breathed the icy air with greater ease. It was not enough, though. He had reached an unchartable side of the rocky hills, and there was nowhere to run. Still a wizard, he drew his wand to fight the hungry beast.

It was a huge animal just beyond the brush, canine in nature rather than lupine but no less dangerous. Remus aimed his wand at the thing that had tracked his scent.

“ _Stupefy_!”

His spell had been matched by the very same. Remus’s back hit the rocks, and he fell unconscious. He was not pleased to recognise his surroundings when he awoke, and the throbbing headache he had told him it must have been less than an hour till his monstrous transformation. What he beheld was the ceiling of Sirius’s room, the same ceiling he had stared at for two hours this morning before deciding to depart. The furniture was gone save for the bed.

“Sirius.”

“I’m here, Remus.”

Remus sat up, his blood coursing through his body as though his veins had all turned to snakes trying to shed their skin. It would be soon.

“Sirius.”

“Yes.”

“You should have left me.”

“I resent those words. We had this planned out, detail by gritty detail, and you ran from me.”

“I was try –– _agh_ –– trying to protect you.”

“It is my turn to protect you.”

“You haven’t even encountered a transformed werewolf before. I will not be myself.”

“I already know that. We have hitherto discussed that at length, and you sought to leave me.”

“I did not –– Sirius, I did not seek to leave _you_. I sought to… to…”

“Remus,” Sirius said, his cool hand pressing the top of Remus’s forehead, “you cannot leave yourself.”

Remus reached for that hand to hold it without violence, to kiss it without the need to taste. He saw that his fingernails had grown since this morning. What a foul state of the body. Sirius allowed the contact for a moment, and then he helped Remus out of the bed, which he magically Shrunk and removed from the room. For Remus could tear the bed. He could tear everything.

Sirius snuffed the lights, so that only the candles in the hall were visible. He knew the light would agitate Remus. He knew everything.

Remus leaned into him when he returned, and in the embrace, Sirius began to undress him. The sensation of his lover’s touch aroused him, but that would go away at moonrise. Body, mind, soul… Everything would go away at moonrise.

“There is some meat here, but I regret to inform you it is quail,” said Sirius with false joviality, and Remus groaned at his innocence.

“Sit down. I am going to Immobilise you below the knee, like we planned.”

Remus nodded and took the spell.

 _Please let this all work_. _Please_.

Sirius rubbed his shoulders and kissed his hair, which was still only on the crown of his head.

“Remus Lupin, do not leave me again,” he said in a deep rasp.

The tips of Sirius’s fingers left his skin, and the door to the room was shut, locked, and heavily fortified with magic. Remus wiped his face and cowered in the darkness alone, afraid of himself. He could hear Sirius draw up a chair on the other side of the barrier.

“I’m going to talk to you until it happens, Remus.”

Tears itched Remus’s eyes.

“Thank you,” he croaked. “Thank you.”

It was not long until Remus stopped being able to respond to the human speech. Shortly after, the words he heard ceased to make sense at all. He lost his mind and the night became pain. There was no sense of self, only hunger. The meat in the room was not fresh. It was not bleeding. It was eaten, but it would not do. He rammed his half-paralysed body against the walls to no avail. There was a scent outside, but it was not the salivatory scent of human sweat. It was that of another beast. He butted his head against the door futilely, and sniffed under the door’s crack, but it was fortified by a power he could not overcome. Yes, there was a fellow out there. He let out a low howl. A gentle language returned to his pointed ears. Smaller and weaker, like the smell it put off. He slid to the floor and tried to supplement the scent with a sight. Black, clawed paws. He tried to get to them again. It did not work, but the stimulus of the other creature helped to give him something else to feel besides the primordial appetite.

The sun fell through the unbreakable window onto Remus’s human back. The door creaked open, and Remus felt his legs again. He arose from his knees and lunged, not as a predator for prey, but as a lover for a lover.

“It worked,” he cried out. “Sirius, it worked. Your magic held me, Sirius!”

Sirius held him firmly and combed his mess of hair with his fingers. Remus drew back to look at the whole of him.

“Now that you know, will you remain with me?” Sirius asked, his eyes boring through Remus’s heart.

“If you will have me, Sirius,” said Remus quietly. “If you are willing to do this each lunar cycle, so that I can always rest assured of your safety, I will gladly stay.”

He clutched Sirius like a need.

“For all of your days?” Sirius asked in his ear.

Remus buried his face in the smooth, dark waves and took in every soft sensation of the man who had saved him.

“For all of our days.”


End file.
